


Chime of a Bell

by Batsutousai



Series: Tales of the Fairy Men [6]
Category: British Actor RPF, De Røde Sko | The Red Shoes, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Torture (of a Fashion), self mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:32:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an attempt to get Loki out of her way, Amora the hedge witch gifts him with a pair of beautiful white shoes. The catch, of course, is that they will neither stop dancing, nor let themselves be removed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chime of a Bell

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The characters of Thomas "Tom" Hiddleston is based on a real person, and no offence is intended; this is only for the amusement of myself and other like-minded (read: mentally ill) fans.
> 
> **A/N:** This is part of a series of fics based on [a challenge](http://batsutousai.tumblr.com/post/38980067347) to write your OTP using various fairy tales. And colours. Twelve fics, one per month, for the entirety of 2013.  
>  June's prompt is _The Red Shoes_ with the colour white.
> 
> My original knowledge of this fairy tale was far less religious – and quite a bit less bloody – than the original, and the shoes weren't, necessarily, red. But they were shoes that danced the wearer to death.  
> I debated for a bit on the amount of religion I wanted, and how close to which version of the tale I wanted to go. And then it was almost the end of the month and I was stuck trying to write in a cramped curl at the coffee table, so this is what came out. Sorry in advance?

Loki Laufeyson was a wretched, ruined sort of creature. Left in squalor after the unfortunate murder of his parents, Loki had fallen into the arms of criminals and their dirty deeds. It took his father's best friend, Odin Allfather, almost four years to track the young man down, and it was almost too late to bring him back when he did.

But Frigga, Odin's wife, was patient and kindness personified, and she brought the young man back from the edge of hell. Loki started attending church again and refusing his urges to pick people's pockets, or slip a bit of something from the shops into an unusually deep pocket. 

As celebration, Odin bought his ward a beautiful pair of dark green boots, which he'd oft seen Loki's eyes drawn to as they walked past. 

Loki loved them so, that he continued to wear them long after they should have been replaced. By that time, he'd begun making a name for himself in polite society again, and that meant enemies. One such enemy, a hedge witch called Amora, hated him for his cautions to Odin's eldest son, which kept Thor from falling for Amora's many love charms. In a fury, she enchanted a pair of boots to carry Loki far, far away from her machinations. 

A stunning shade of purest white, Loki was given them the night of a much-planned-for dance. Given the state of his favourite boots, it wasn't hard for Frigga to talk him into changing into the lovely white boots that had been left with only the briefest of notes. Loki thought Frigga had ordered them and Frigga assumed the boots had come at Loki's order, and so neither thought to question the lack of proper delivery or fitting arrangements. 

The boots itched some, but Loki ignored the irritation in exchange for the compliments they garnered. That the boots seemed to repel mud from the recent rain was only another note in their favour and Loki wondered if they weren't nicer than his last pair. Perhaps he might enquire as to where they'd come from later, so he might order a new pair in green. 

It wasn't until he'd begun to dance that the spell activated. And while it was not immediately apparent that he couldn't help but dance away from Thor, Loki began to suspect when he found himself dancing closer and closer to the exit. With a quick apology to his dancing partner, he danced his way out of the building and to a bench to sit and catch his breath. 

But he could not sit, could not get his feet to move that way and so he danced along the road, further and further from any chance at help. 

He pulled out his belt knife to try and cut the boots away, but he only managed to nick himself at each pass, until he had to admit that he could never hope to get them off while they moved. 

The boots made him dance all night, until he was sobbing at the agony of his feet and legs. 

Still, the boots were a pure, shining white. 

Loki took turns cursing the maker of the boots and Frigga for ordering them and himself for being less careful and God for returning his faith in Him with nothing but this un-asked for pain. 

He danced all morning, across field and foot paths, until he reached a wood just as the sun reached its zenith. He spared a moment's gratitude, for the day was warm and he was already sweating what precious liquid was left in his body away. 

Just after lunch, he passed a well and managed to trick the boots into dancing around it long enough for him to pull up the bucket and quench his thirst. And then he tried to trick them into finding him someone that might be able to assist him, for people were never far from wells. 

But the boots would have none of it and Loki again danced away. 

He danced through the wood for the rest of the day and well into night. When he finally passed through the far side, there lay nothing but brambles ahead and the boots happily dove in while Loki howled and sobbed and passed through a shredded mess. 

In the early morning, the boots brought him close to a cottage, out of which stepped a giant of a man to find Loki, sobbing mess that he was. "Please, please," Loki choked out, reaching his hands forth beseechingly, "any help, I beg you. These boots are cursed and I cannot get them off." 

The man reached down and hefted up a large axe. "I could cut them off." 

"The boots will not cut," Loki warned. 

"I won't cut the boots." 

Not the boots, just Loki. But Loki would rather live a hundred years without legs than another day with these boots, so he nodded to the large man and caught at a branch of a nearby tree to try to hold himself in place. 

But the boots were clever and the man could not even come close to touching Loki with the axe. 

"Give me the axe," Loki requested at last and the man handed it over. 

Gritting his teeth, Loki shifted his grip, bent at his waist, and did the deed. 

-0-

The man with the axe was named Volstagg and he was friends with a doctor of some repute who lived near enough that Loki's life was saved. 

"What little a life it will be," Volstagg added grimly as Loki stared down at the stumps of his legs. "You would have been better had Bruce failed, I think." 

Loki wondered if Volstagg wasn't right, but he said nothing of it. 

He refused to move from his bed for nearly three months. But when word reached him of Thor's engagement to Amora, he knew he needed to get home. 

Volstagg and his friends made him pegs to stand on and poles to help support his weight and so Loki could sort of walk again. But when he turned towards Odin's land, those cursed white boots with his rotting feet still inside danced in front of him and tripped him up until he'd fallen on his face a dozen times and could no longer make himself get up. 

The boots, sensing their victory, hopped onto the back of his head and danced on top of him. 

Loki closed his eyes and cried into the dirt for a long moment, wishing that Bruce hadn't been nearly so talented. 

At last, when the boots laid down for their own rest, Loki turned over onto his back and stared up at the darkening sky. With the shadow of tears still fresh on his face and the sense of helpless agony burning in his chest, Loki opened his mouth to pray, "Please, Lord. Torture me as you will, as I have done little undeserving of your cruelties, but do not let this witch ruin Thor. For he is good and kind and everything I am not. And I would dance a thousand miles in those cursed boots before I would see him bound to Amora." 

"It is when you turn your thoughts first to others, that the Lord hears you," a voice like the most beautiful chime offered. 

Loki turned his head to the side and found the most lovely man standing over the cursed boots. The man had golden hair that shone even in the limited light of the stars peeking down at them from above and he wore a robe of pale blue, so light a shade it was almost white. "Who...?" 

The man smiled and knelt next to the boots. When they tried to jump away from him, he caught them both in hands bright with a golden light and they exploded into nothing. Loki let out a strained sob, somewhere between sadness and pleasure, and the man looked up at him with the kindest smile Loki had ever had turned his way. 

"Loki Laufeyson," the man murmured as he moved over to kneel next to Loki's prone form. 

"Your robe will get dirty," Loki found himself saying. 

The man chuckled, a sound made of little more than light and happiness, and gold-tinged hands gently cupped Loki's face. "No one ever deserves such a curse as those boots," he murmured, forehead pressed lightly to Loki's own, "but you bore it with a strength few have, as you have borne so many other cruelties in your life." 

"I am no saint," Loki insisted. 

"And what, then, makes a saint?" the man wondered. "Is it not suffering and a good heart?" 

Loki let out a cold laugh and tried to pull his face from the warm hands holding it. When the other man wouldn't budge, Loki settled for closing his eyes. "My heart is far from good." 

"Your heart is scarred and broken beyond even the greatest of doctor's skills to repair," the man corrected, "but when you were at your lowest, it was of a friend you thought." Warm lips pressed against Loki's own and his eyes flew open to stare as the man pulled away, pure white wings arching high over his head. "Loki, my Loki, you are yet good." 

The man – the _angel_ , Loki corrected – vanished then, leaving Loki alone in the middle of the path. But there was an unexpected strength in him now, and he climbed awkwardly to his pegs and braces and turned towards home. 

-0-

Loki arrived just in time to call the wedding to an end before Amora could have Thor for good. His testimony – and that of Volstagg, who had followed behind with his friends – saw Amora hanged. Thor married Volstagg's friend, Sif, and Loki had new boots that hid his pegs. 

But the gift of strength and purpose the angel had given Loki only lasted him through the year. While Thor and Sif were away on their honeymoon, Loki fell deathly ill and held on only long enough for Thor to return and say good-bye. 

"There is good in you," the angel said as he drew Loki away from his failing body. 

Loki looked into those blue eyes, strangely familiar to his eternal soul, and smiled. "But is there enough this time?" he wondered as they approached the golden gates of heaven. 

The angel – _Thomas_ , Loki knew – paused a moment to chew on his lower lip and look Loki over. "I think so." 

Thomas pressed through ahead, drawing Loki through after him. There was a moment of resistance, but Loki got through at last. 

"Does this mean I can stay?" he asked Thomas as the angel pulled him into his arms. 

"Do you still want to?" Thomas whispered, the horror of watching Loki suffer everything for old sins dark in his eyes. 

Loki cupped Thomas' cheeks and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "Only the blackest of hearts could turn you away, my Thomas." 

And Thomas laughed, the chime of a bell echoing through clouds as an angel finally got his wings.

..


End file.
